The Darkness
by minaviolet44
Summary: My idea of what Season Eleven of Supernatural might be like. I will never complete this. Anyone can do anything with it.
1. Hell

Screams. All he could hear was screams.

He opened his eyes. His sight was met with clouds of black and rivers of red and chains of steel.

He tried to take a breath. Found he couldn't.

He looked down at his body, and realized that his organs were spilling out. He should feel pain, he thought vaguely, detached.

His stomach was carved out, his intestines falling from between the flaps of flesh. Bleeding scars crisscrossed everywhere, like a game of Tic-Tac-Toe gone wrong.

He looked up again. His eyes met vicious black eyes. A cruel smile, filled with fangs, stretched out on the mangled face of the demon holding a jagged knife to his throat.

"Welcome back, son," Alastair said.

And Dean screamed.


	2. Tuesday

_Heat~ of the moment!_

Sam opened his eyes. Why on earth was Dean playing that song, of all the songs he could have played?

Dean knew how much he hated that song.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam sat up. He looked around for a second—this felt way too familiar. Like he'd been through this before.

Maybe it was just déjà vu?

"Dude, Asia." He turned to Dean, who was grinning at him. The same way he had all of those Tuesdays. But Gabriel was dead, so there was no way this was _that_ Tuesday.

Then Dean began to bop to the music, and Sam desperately hoped that it was just his imagination.

An hour later, Sam sat at the table of their motel room's kitchen, on his laptop.

…He couldn't remember what case they were supposed to be on. He didn't even know how they'd gotten here. Why were they here?

"Dean, what case were we on?" He called.

"Dude, how do you not remember? You said we should take a look at that Mystery Spot, remember?"

Sam froze. No. _No._ There was no way they could be at the Mystery Spot.

Then he heard a yelp, a thud, and the sound of water splashing.

 _Heat~ of the moment!_

Sam opened his eyes. He sat up quickly, and grabbed his phone on the nightstand, quickly going to the calendar.

It was Tuesday, again.


	3. Purgatory

"Come on, Cas!" He shouted.

He ran through forests of nondescript grey, breathing heavily. The Leviathans had gotten on their tails again, but there was no way he was leaving Cas behind.

He took a quick glance behind him. Benny was a glowing scab on Dean's arm—Benny wasn't an issue right now.

Cas was a different matter. He didn't care if Cas had been here for months on his own without Dean—he'd been insane when they'd gotten here, and though he seemed sane now, Dean knew there was no way he was leaving the guy alone again.

The last time he'd done that, he'd thought Cas was dead.

He grabbed Cas's hand, seeing him slowing down.

"Don't slow down now, Cas! We're nearly there!"

He didn't wait for Cas to respond.

They—somehow—managed to outrun the Leviathans, and get to the portal. As soon as Dean reached it, it glowed, responding to his human soul like Benny had said it would and widening.

He was halfway through it when Cas's grip started weakening.

"Cas!" He shouted. "Hold on, we're nearly there!"

Cas looked at him—looked him straight in the eyes—and Dean knew that look. That was the look Cas had given him before he'd taken in the souls of Purgatory, the one he'd given before he'd transferred Sam's insanity to himself.

"Dean," and even though he was shouting, his voice was still a gravelly monotone, "Go!"

Then he let go.


	4. The Cage

Sam blinked.

He felt…absurdly cold. Almost as if he were in ice.

Actually, why wasn't he in ice? He felt as if he should be. But for some reason, he seemed to be surrounded by flames.

But they felt…cold. Bone-chillingly cold. He looked around him. Where was he? All he could see beyond the flames was darkness.

Wait, were those bars? And who was that man in the distance—no.

No, it couldn't be. Whatever this was, it was impossible—because that man looked like Michael, he looked like a fusion of Adam and Dean and a younger version of Sam's dad.

And next to him, whimpering in pain, looked to be a soul almost reminiscent of Adam. And if Michael and Adam were there, and there was fire and bars…

"Heya, Sammy!" Lucifer grinned cheerfully at him. Sam stared.

The devil frowned. "Are you just going to stare at me? That's no fun, you know." He snapped his fingers.

And suddenly Sam was burning and screaming and being torn apart and…

 _Oh,_ he thought with sudden clarity. _I guess I never left after all._


	5. Crowley

Crowley felt an absurd desire to scream. This was _completely_ the fault of that idiot moose! He'd thought Dean was crazy about his younger brother—apparently, though, it seemed that Sam was just far better at hiding his side of their interdependent relationship.

And now, as usual, it had ended up with him in danger, a bitch—sorry, _witch_ —on the loose with one of the darkest books in existence, and the wayward fallen angel yet again insane and catatonic.

Well, that last one was more his moth— _Rowena's_ fault, really. He was fairly sure that the spell that had made Castiel feral wouldn't kill the angel, but it would last for 24 hours—and since he was the focus of the spell, in the end, he would have to spend a day constantly running from a crazy angel. It almost reminded him of Lucifer.

Or maybe he wouldn't have to keep running. If he could search for those _idiot_ Winchesters while he kept Castiel off his tail, then possibly he could get one of them—probably the squirrel, practically everyone saw the UST between those two—to snap the angel out of it.

What did they call it, true love's kiss?

Well, that was, if he didn't still have that damned Mark. And wasn't already a demon. And if the Winchesters hadn't started the apocalypse again—

Oh. _Oh._

Crowley had until now simply been repeatedly teleporting from inside random building to random building on repeat, and the angel had been following him in a chase with his blade held in stabbing position, but after this most recent teleportation to the area just out of Kansas, both he and the angel had frozen.

It seemed even the spell couldn't overcome the sheer shock they both felt at the scene above them. The sky—the sky itself was covered in roiling black smoke—completely. At first Crowley wondered if this was some sort of demonic mutiny or coup d'état, but he was sure that darkness was NOT any demon.

And he was also sure this was probably all the Winchesters' fault.


End file.
